


The Mandalorian - Cold or warm?

by Ghosthiro62



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, Fate & Destiny, Matter of Life and Death, Pedro Pascal - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24588145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghosthiro62/pseuds/Ghosthiro62
Summary: A long time ago in a galaxy far far away ...The Galactic Empire was finished. Now crime lords controlled the vast tracts of space. This was the for the bounty hunter...The Mandalorian travels to the wastelands of planet called Rust. His target is a small time crook who allegedly stole from the Hutt syndicate





	1. Chapter 1

The assignment was more than routine: apprehending a low-level drug dealer urgently moving a load of StarDust, a new narcotic, highly addictive and deadly even in very small doses. Seemed below Mandalorian's level of expertise but credits are credits, especially when the payment comes from the Hutts. Money was always welcomed - it paid for food, shelter, equipment.

The target was traced to a small dusty world that most people called Rust. Perhaps, it was the color of the sands that winds brought from the planet’s deserts.  
As Razor Crest swept over sky-high mountains of broken machinery, Dyn Djarren thought only about his bounty. His fob was telling him that he was close. Landing in a clearing next to a small village, he went to work…

The road twisted and turned but, after a few hours of battling the road, Dyn came upon some signs of human habitation. It was a typical one-tavern place named Narrow Pass. He stopped the vehicle at the edge of the settlement, and a couple, sitting on the porch of their little house, hastened to get inside, away from any trouble. He paid this no heed—he was used to drawing such attention when he was working. After all, a bounty hunter in a helmet and full body armor stood out when most could barely afford a pair of shoes. However, common folk tended to overestimate their sins; they feared Dyn was there for them, when the truth was that they had nothing to worry about unless they found themselves on the wrong side of someone rich enough to buy the services of a hunter. Today's target, though, had managed to do just that. Hutts do not forgive and they do not forget.

With thoughts like that, Dyn walked toward the cantina. If you wanted to find information about somebody - this was the place to go. He stopped in front of the dome-shaped tavern. and headed straight for the bar. Three men playing poker watched him, though he was careful not to look at them directly. He'd learned it was always better to ignore locals. The burly bartender didn't look up from pulling a draught.

"What do you want, Mandalorian?"   
"A beer," - Dyn replied.

The bartender grabbed another glass and slid it under the tap as soon as the first was full. The hunter waited, casually keeping his eye on the poker table in the mirror behind the bar. The cards were laid flat on the table—the three players' expressions said they most definitely weren't going to ask him to join in for a hand. The bartender set the beer down and gave Dyn a once over. He scowled and pulled the beer away.

"Sorry, we're all out of beer." - the bartender quipped.  
"Oh really?" - Dyn was eyeing the glass still on the bar.  
The bartender nodded toward the poker table - "That's for one of them."  
"Then I'll take a whiskey," - Dyn said.   
"We're out of that, too."  
"Then I'll take whatever you've got."   
"We're all out of everything. You might want to check the next town over…" 

The bartender crossed his arms over his chest. Dyn understood what the ugly human in front of him meant. He dropped one hand to his holster. With the other, he pulled his bounty fob and slid it across the bar with a coin. 

"I'm looking for someone - a human by the name Ed the Spike."   
"You guys always are," - the bartender said with ice hanging from each word.  
"This particular human is wanted for drug sales. He is carrying StarDust. He's been seen at this establishment more than once in the past week." 

The bartender glanced down at the picture. Recognition flickered in his eyes, but he shut it down fast. "Sorry, I can't help ya. I've never seen that fella before in my life." Dyn set another coin on top of the first and tapped them. "You sure about that? Sometimes folks don't recognize someone until they recognize someone." The man's eyes returned to the image on the fob. A hand grabbed the hunter's shoulder. 

"I just polished that, and sure dislike getting fingerprints on it, so I'd remove that hand if you want to keep it, friend." - Dyn growled.   
"A Mandalorian hunter with a red cape took my brother four months back. You remember Nate Gillett?"   
"Nope. Can't say I do. Should I?" - Dyn did remember: Gillett was a vile gangster and a wife-beater. It was one of those bounties the hunter would've preferred to bring in dead, except that the dead only brought half-price.   
"Nate's innocent, yet he's still stuck in that stink hole called a prison camp."   
"Every person I have a ticket for has said they're innocent. Most are liars. Like your brother…

Dyn heard the sounds of blasters being pulled from their holsters. Being a bounty hunter was like being a rabbit caught in a den of wolves, only this rabbit had the Mandalorian armor and a blaster. The grip on his shoulder tightened and swung him around. As Dyn spun, he brought up his own blaster and fired the instant he faced the Gillett brother. The men’s legs folded and he fell forward. He was dead before his brain even registered that he'd been shot. The other two men seemed surprised, and Dyn burned holes through their chests before either man could reclaim his senses and fire. He turned and set his blaster on the bar, barrel pointing at the bartender, whose eyes had gone wide with fear. "Let's try this again. Where is he?" Dyn tapped the picture. The bartender's arm seemed like it weighed a hundred pounds considering how he struggled to raise it. He pointed a shaky finger to the back hallway. "K-kitchen." "There. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Dyn pocketed the fob and \took cautious, deliberate steps down the hallway. 

Chances were, his target had heard the commotion—it hadn't been much of a "fight"—and taken off running. But, as he approached the kitchen, he heard music, a folksy dance tune with heavy drums to help keep the beat. A man was singing along to the words, though it was more like he was punishing the air with his vocal cords. Dyn grimaced. What was it about the worst singers being the loudest? His target deserved to be arrested if for no other reason than assault to the public ears. Dyn slowed to a stop before the open doorway. He listened but could only make out the sounds of one person working. Holding his blaster at the ready, he rushed through the doorway and into the kitchen. The lone man had his back to him and continued to sing/yodel/rap as he peeled potatoes. Dyn took several steps closer before he spoke, keeping his blaster leveled on his target. "Edward Sikes, aka Ed the Spike, I have a ticket for your arrest." The man turned, saw Dyn, let out yell, and ran...


	2. Chapter 2

The assignment was more than routine. Apprehend a low-level drug dealer urgently moving a load of StarDust, a substance deadly even in very small doses. Seemed below Mandalorian's level of expertise but credits are credits. Money was always welcomed - it paid for food, shelter, equipment.

The planet was a small dusty world that most people called Rust. Perhaps, it was the color of the sands that winds brought from the planet’s deserts.  
As Razor Crest swept over sky-high mountains of broken machinery, Dyn Djarren thought only about his bounty. His fob was telling him that he was close. Landing in a clearing next to a small village, he went to work…

The road twisted and turned but, after a few hours of battling the road, Dyn came upon a settlement. It was a typical one-tavern place named Narrow Pass. He stopped the vechicle at the edge of the settlement, and a couple passing nearby hastened to put distance between them. He paid this no heed—he was used to drawing such attention when he was working. After all, a bounty hunter in a helmet and full body armor stood out when most could barely afford a pair of shoes. However, common folk tended to overestimate their sins; they feared Dyn was there for them, when the truth was that they had nothing to worry about unless they found themselves on the wrong side of someone rich enough to buy the services of a hunter. Today's target, though, had managed to do just that. 

With thoughts like that, Dyn walked toward the cantina. If you wanted to find information about somebody - this was the place to go. The cantina was the place to go for information, and Dyn was always in need of information. He stopped in front of the dome-shaped tavern. and headed straight for the bar. Three men playing poker watched him, though he was careful not to look at them directly. He'd learned it was always better to ignore locals. The burly bartender didn't look up from pulling a draught. "What do you want, Mandalorian?" "A beer," Dyn replied. The bartender grabbed another glass and slid it under the tap as soon as the first was full. The hunter waited, casually keeping his eye on the poker table in the mirror behind the bar. The cards were laid flat on the table—the three players' expressions said they most definitely weren't going to ask him to join in for a hand. The bartender set the beer down and gave Dyn a once over. He scowled and pulled the beer away. "Sorry, we're all out of beer." "Oh really?" Dyn eyed the one he'd just set behind him. The bartender nodded toward the poker table. "That's for one of them." "Then I'll take a whiskey," Dyn said. "We're out of that, too." "Then I'll take whatever you've got." "We're all out of everything. You might want to check the next town over…" The bartender crossed his arms over his chest. Dyn what the ugly human in front of him meant. He dropped one hand to his holster. With the other, he pulled his bounty fob and slid it across the bar with a coin. "I'm looking for someone - a human by the name Ed the Spike." "You guys always are," the bartender said with ice hanging from each word. "This particular human is wanted for drug sales. He is carrying StarDust. He's been seen at this establishment more than once in the past week." The bartender glanced down at the picture. Recognition flickered in his eyes, but he shut it down fast. "Sorry, I can't help ya. I've never seen that fella before in my life." Dyn set another coin on top of the first and tapped them. "You sure about that? Sometimes folks don't recognize someone until they recognize someone." The man's eyes returned to the image on the fob. A hand grabbed the hunter's shoulder. Dyn didn't turn around. "I just polished that, and sure dislike getting fingerprints on it, so I'd remove that hand if you want to keep it, friend." The hand stayed. "A Mandalorian hunter with a red cape took my brother four months back. You remember Nate Gillett?" "Nope. Can't say I do. Should I?" Dyn did remember: Gillett was an alcoholic and a wife-beater. It was one of those tickets the hunter would've preferred to bring in dead, except that the dead only brought half-price. "Nate's innocent, yet he's still stuck in that stink hole called a prison camp." Dyn chuckled. "Every person I have a ticket for has said they're innocent. Most are liars. Like your brother…

He heard the sounds of blasters being pulled from their holsters. Being a bounty hunter was like being a rabbit caught in a den of wolves, only this rabbit had armor and a blaster. The grip on his shoulder tightened and swung him around. As Dyn spun, he brought up his own blaster and fired the instant he faced the Gillett brother. The energy beam shot right through the center of the man's chest; he was dead before his brain even registered that he'd been shot. The other two men seemed surprised, and Dyn burned holes through their chests before either man could reclaim his senses and fire. Some folks would call Dyn a murderer for killing men who hadn't fired and maybe never would've. As his war buddies used to say, a shot in time saves nine…or at least one in this case, with that one being Dyn. He'd much rather have people think poorly of him than be dead. He turned and set his blaster on the bar, barrel pointing at the bartender, whose eyes had gone wide with fear. "Let's try this again. Where is he?" Dyn tapped the picture. The bartender's arm seemed like it weighed a hundred pounds considering how he struggled to raise it. He pointed a shaky finger to the back hallway. "K-kitchen." "There. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Dyn pocketed the picture. He could've taken the coins back, the bartender wouldn't have stopped him, but Dyn left the credits, considering the business he'd just lost. People didn't like to socialize around dead bodies unless they were at a funeral, though Dyn never understood the rationale behind that. Dead was dead in his book. He took cautious, deliberate steps down the hallway. Chances were, his target had heard the commotion—it hadn't been much of a "fight"—and taken off running. But, approaching the kitchen brought music, a folksy dance tune with heavy drums to help keep the beat. A man was singing along to the words, though it was more like he was punishing the air with his vocal cords. Dyn grimaced. What was it about the worst singers being the loudest? His target deserved to be arrested if for no other reason than assault to the public ears. Dyn slowed to a stop before the open doorway. He listened but could only make out the sounds of one person working. Holding his blaster at the ready, he rushed through the doorway and into the kitchen. The lone man had his back to him and continued to sing/yodel/rap as he peeled potatoes. Dyn took several steps closer before he spoke, keeping his blaster leveled on his target. "Edward Sikes, aka Ed the Spike, I have a ticket for your arrest." The man turned, saw Dyn, let out yell, and ran...


	3. Chapter 3

The drive from Narrow Pass to Razor Crest landing spot took six hours on a good day. The problem was, this wasn't a good day. What had started as a decent evening had given in to a dusk so crappy that a dark and stormy night sounded downright cozy. Monster's headlights reflected the blowing silica sand rather than cut through it, and Dyn had to rely on the rig's auto-drive feature—sensors that picked up the geo-trackers implanted along the route—to stay on the road. Even using the enhanced visual sensors in his helmet, Dyn couldn't see more than a few feet. The dust storms always came from the west, the winds carrying sands from the deserts of the Salt Flats. And that was the best possible scenario since the winds that came from the east brought death. He could hear the thunder from regular bursts of dry lightning, but the dust storm swallowed even the wildest of lights. The thunder rattled the vehicle, but Dyn didn't mind since it helped drown out Sikes's angry tirade. The man hadn't been in a good mood since he'd awakened. He pounded on the cab and yelled enthusiastic strings of insults, evidently unimpressed with his travel accommodations. The small bed was fully enclosed, so he wouldn't die from exposure, and given how Sikes was able to continue spouting obscenities at the top of his lungs, the air must be decent enough back there.

Dyn glanced at the screen. At least another four hours on the road, assuming the storm lifted soon. He considered taking off his helmet to get more comfortable, but the idea was fleeting. He'd known too many hunters who'd been caught with their pants down—some, literally—and he had no intention of adding his name to the Killed in Action list. As long as he was on the job, he stayed suited up. He closed his eyes and let the howling of the wind lull him to sleep. As he entered his dreamworld, he also heard thunder, but in that place, he knew the sound meant something far more sinister. There, most thunderclaps were echoed by screams.

An explosion took out the foxhole next to his. "Down!" he yelled and covered his head. Chunks of dirt and things he didn't want to think about pelted him. Pain erupted in his forearm, and he looked to see a burning fragment melting through his jacket. He knocked away the bit and then noticed the soldier who'd taken cover in the hole with him. Shrapnel had sliced through her helmet. He lunged over and tugged off her helmet, and soon came to know how swift death had been for her. He leaned back on his heels, head lowered. She was a new recruit, just arrived that morning. He hadn't even learned her name. With how the last Mandalorian War was going, he wouldn't be far behind her. He tugged the red cape off her armor and tucked it into his pack. He remained there, trying to ignore her lifeless stare while the barrage continued around him.   
Suddenly, there was a great crashing sound as something barreled into his side, Dyn woke up, and he was yanked instantly out of his old battles. He grabbed at the wheel, but the rig was rammed again. Sikes was screaming like a madman in the back. Dyn's head hit the window a second time, and the glass cracked. Without his helmet, he would've had whiplash or even a nasty concussion. He'd had both before, and wasn't a fan of having another one. Monster was being pushed sideways, its drag-reducing fenders now the only things preventing the vehicle from rolling over. Dyn blinked his eyes into focus as he pulled out his blaster. He looked through the window to find another vehicle pushing Monster. The rig had a blazingly bright lightbar, which prevented Dyn from making out the model, let alone its occupants. He opened the window and fired a random volley at it. It spun away, which Dyn didn't expect since his shots had bounced right off the vehicle.

Dyn’s world was suddenly turned upside down. For the briefest moment, his rig seemed to float before it lurched over and rolled. The vehicle tumbled over and over. The seatbelt held Dyn in place, but he still tried to grab onto anything to better secure himself. The rolling stopped more abruptly than it'd begun, and Dyn was thrown to the right, the seatbelt the only thing that kept him from slamming into the passenger door. The movement stopped long before Dyn found his bearings. Gravity pulled him as he hung parallel to the ground. He tasted blood and hoped he hadn't bitten through his tongue. Red warning lights flashed across the Dyn’s control panel. Outside, water lapped at the windshield. He closed his eyes while he allowed himself to relax. No broken bones, but his left wrist complained…possibly sprained. He took a breath and opened his eyes. A sound of metal-on-metal movement came from the back. 

"You still alive back there, Sikes?" Dyn called

There was no response. Pressing his left foot against the dash and his right against the passenger door, Dyn unhooked his seatbelt. Finding his balance, he stood on the passenger door and grabbed the latch on the driver's side door above him. The door wouldn't open. He tried again, pushing harder this time, with no better luck. He grimaced, stood at full height, and stuck his head and arms through the open window. He braced his arms on either side of the opening and pulled himself up and through. He sat on the side of the rig and took in the scene. It was impossible to see more than fifty feet due to the dust storm, but the visibility was better here. Monster had ended up in a ravine, coming to a stop in the middle of a stream. The water was no more than a foot deep, and Dyn was glad that the night had brought a dust storm rather than a rainstorm. He knew all too well the dangers of flash floods in the rocky hills of the Midlands. The steep embankments on either side blocked the harshest winds. He listened for sounds of the second vehicle but heard only the whistling wind. The sounds from the back of the rig returned, and this time, Dyn knew that Sikes was hitting or kicking something. Dyn rolled his eyes. "I can hear you trying to break out back there. You're not exactly being sneaky about it." The sound paused for a couple of seconds before starting back up more aggressively. The screech of a metal door opening got Dyn's full attention. He hopped off the side of the cutter and landed on the rocky ground. He reached for his blaster and found the holster empty. Then he remembered that he'd had it in his hand when Monster was rammed off the road. Sighing, he pulled his backup blaster out of its off-hand holster. He winced as his left hand protested, gripping the pistol. He raised the blaster, considered grabbing his shocker, then fired. A moment of surprise registered when he missed. He frowned and fired again. Sikes collapsed with an impressive howl. Dyn switched the blaster to his right hand and walked over to his bounty, careful to keep the weapon aimed at the now-injured man. Sikes was cradling his calf when Dyn stopped before him. He looked up. His hair was damp with sweat, and he seemed covered in scrapes and bruises.   
"I can't believe you shot me!"   
"That's for being dumb enough to try to escape." Dyn glared. "I should shoot you in the other leg as payback for your buddies up there who tried to break you free."   
"My buddies?" - Sikes seemed genuinely confused; then, his features fell into dejection. "Nobody I know cares enough to rescue me."


	4. Chapter 4

Dyn looked up at the road at least seventy feet above them. He'd assumed that whoever was in the other rig had come for Sikes, but then it made no sense for them to leave without their friend. Though, their attackers were just as likely linked to the Gillett clan, delivering vengeance against him for killing one of their own earlier that day. It could've been just about anyone out to do him harm. The number of people who wanted to see him dead was a whole lot bigger than the number of people who cared to see him alive. At least their attackers had cleared out, likely assuming he was dead, and not having the ambition to stand around in a dust storm to find out. His armor blocked the dirt from scraping his skin, but it gummed up the joints between the plating. He'd have to spend hours cleaning his suit once he turned in his bounty. Until then, he'd have to deal with the grimy joints. He turned back to his bounty and motioned with his blaster.

"Back to the rig with you." Sikes growled.   
"I can't walk. You shot me in the leg."   
"You still have one good leg. Besides, that's just a graze. It didn't even break your skin," Dyn said, cocking his head at the singed hole in Sikes's pants.

His prisoner attempted to stand before falling dramatically back into the dirt. 

"I can't."   
"Move."   
"You know, compassion can accomplish a whole lot more than cruelty.".   
"You've never been in war." 

Dyn sighed and holstered his blaster. He bent down, wrapped an arm around the injured man, and helped him to his feet. Dyn carried well over half of the other man's weight as he assisted him back to the rig. They stopped when they reached the back of the rig—or what was left of it. The back door had been broken off its hinges, and the cage was heavily dented. He was surprised Sikes'd even had to kick himself out of the cage. Dyn let Sikes take a seat on the edge of the vehicle, and his gaze moved from his rig to his bounty with wonder. 

"How is it that you're even still alive?"   
Sikes shrugged. "Just lucky, I guess." His features then lifted. "Hey, how about we consider this enough punishment for my minor civil case, and you let me go."  
"I can't do that. It's not my job to deliver punishment."   
Dyn pulled out the hand restraints. Sikes kept trying.   
"But you could tell them that I was killed in the accident. Then we can each be on our own way."   
Dyn grabbed his prisoner's left wrist, careful not to grunt at the tenderness in his own, and cuffed Sikes to the rig.

Sikes's features fell. "Oh, come on." He sounded depressed. Dyn ignored him and went to work figuring out how to fix his ride and get out of the ravine.

The dust storm gave way to a hot, sunny day. Dyn had spent the first hour finding his tools, which had tumbled out when Monster rolled. In daylight, he could see that his attackers had rammed him off the road at the perfect spot, which spoke to intentionality: a tight outside curve with a nearly straight drop-off. The ravine was more of a canyon, which made sense since this was the area once known as the Badlands. He wasn't sure why the area wasn't called that anymore, though he figured it was because every place he'd ever been was just as bad these days.

"It sure is a cooker today. Doesn't it get hot wearing that armor and helmet all day?"  
"Nope. Suits have temperature regulators," Dyn replied as he tightened a bolt under the engine case.   
"Temp regulators, really? Would you happen to have an extra suit laying around? If so, I sure could use one. It's a cooker out here today."  
"The only suit you'll be getting is one in jailbird red," Dyn stated flatly.

Sikes thought for a moment. "I've been wondering, do you really go by Havoc, or do you go by a real name, like George or something?"   
Dyn grimaced.   
"George?" Sikes shrugged. "Or something." "I'm Havoc." "Why are you called Havoc? Is there a story behind the name or something?"  
"Or something," Dyn said.   
Sikes shrugged.   
"Fine. I can tell you don't want to talk about it. No problem. But you can call me Eddy. That's what my friends call me. Well, I don't really have any friends right now, but I've had them before. A couple of them."  
"Sikes, shut up," Dyn said. 

There were only two rules for being a bounty hunter. One, get paid, and two, never make it personal. Dyn had broken the second rule once during his first month on the job, right before he bought his suit. He'd taken off the restraints on his bounty—an exceptionally attractive bounty—and she stabbed him in the back (literally). With the final bolt in the bottom plating back in place, Dyn pushed himself out from under Monster. He walked over to his prisoner, uncuffed him, and pointed to a nearby rock. 

"Sit over there. You try to run, I'll shoot you." 

Sikes nodded and rubbed his wrist while he limped over to the rock and sat. "You don't have to worry about me none. Where would I run off to, anyway?" Dyn watched him for a long second before he walked around the vehicle. The three-wheeled rig hadn't been pretty before rolling down a ravine, and it looked to be in worse shape now. The bullet-proof exterior had once been smooth but had become pock-marked from blaster fire, rocks, and an unsavory run-in with a rocking chair (don't ask). The passenger side and roof were now dented and wrinkled from its latest run-in with trouble. The back fenders that hung out like droopy fins on each side of the third wheel remained undamaged. The fenders were designed to reduce drag while preventing the vehicle from rolling over on tight turns, but even they couldn't have prevented Monster from tumbling down the ravine.


	5. Chapter 5

Dyn analyzed the vehicle’s current position. It lay on its right side in a shallow stream. He jumped up and leaned into the driver’s side window, flipped a switch, and the fins retracted. The vehicle moved, nearly throwing Dyn off. He dropped, walked around, paced parallel to its roof a couple of times searching for the best leverage, then stopped near the center. He pressed his hands against the somewhat flexible exterior and pushed. His wrist complained, but he ignored it and pushed harder. He started to regret shooting Sikes in the leg because he could’ve used the extra strength, not that Sikes looked like he had much to offer. Dyn grunted and pushed harder. The vehicle rocked before finally rolling onto its wheels. The right side was surprisingly intact, and the dents popped out as soon as the pressure was off them. Dyn opened the passenger door and pulled out a couple of water bottles and meal bars. He strode over to his prisoner and handed him his share. 

“Here you go, Sikes.” - Dyn offered.  
“I told you earlier, you can call me Eddy,” - Sikes said, before taking a long drink of water. 

Dyn ignored the comment and walked around the vehicle to where his prisoner couldn’t see him. Confident they were alone, he pulled off his helmet and set it on the hood. Bright heat beat against his skin, and he shaded his eyes. Sikes was right. It was a cooker today. He wasted no time eating the bar and downing the bottle of water. Even so, sweat formed on his face by the time he finished, and he slid his helmet back on. The gel-like coolness inside felt like a second skin, only this skin always seemed to be the right temperature. If Dyn was hot, the suit cooled; if he was cold, the suit warmed him. Without a suit, a hunter’s life expectancy tended to run about the same as that of a frog in a dinner pot. 

Sikes was singing again. Dyn had to hand it to the man for being an optimist: the guy’s life was a wreck, yet he still sang. Dyn put his hand on his blaster as he considered shooting his prisoner before he managed to develop a liking for him and letting him go free. Let a couple of bounties go, and Dyn would get a reputation for not completing a job. He sighed. Finally, he could get back on the road. He walked to the back of the vehicle and ran his gloved fingers along the bent cage door. There was no way he could get the door locked as it was, which meant the bounty would have to ride up front with him. His frown deepened. Could his day get any worse? He turned back to Sikes to find him petting a mangy dog with short multi-colored fur, though some of its color looked like it came from mud and other unsavory things rather than from natural pigment. His prisoner grinned. 

“He came right up to me,” he announced, scratching the dog’s ear. “Who’s a good boy?”   
Dyn inclined his head as he eyed the animal. “It’s a girl, not a boy.” Then he scowled. “We’re heading out.” 

Sikes looked at the dog’s belly and then lumbered over. “You’re right. We should bring her with us. She’s hungry. Look at her. She’s skin and bones.” 

Dyn shook his head as he opened the passenger door. “She’s wild. She’s not going to—” The dog jumped into the vehicle. “Oh no you don’t, you mangy mutt. Out.” Dyn pointed to the rocky ground. The dog sat there and grinned back at him, panting.

Dyn reached behind him and tossed a meal bar. The dog tensed but then stayed where she was, watching him expectantly. Sikes pulled himself into the cab, also grinning. “She doesn’t seem so wild after all.” Dyn stared at his prisoner in the passenger seat and the mutt in the center. After a length, he exhaled and motioned at Sikes. “Your hands.” The other man pouted as he held up his hands, the cuffs still hanging from one wrist. 

“You don’t have to cuff me again, really.” - Sikes pleaded.  
“Yeah, sure,” - Dyn grumbled. 

Grabbing his prisoner’s wrists, he ran the cuff through a bar above the door and secured the restraints. He closed the passenger door and walked slowly around the front, scanning the landscape for potential attackers. Seeing nothing but crows and vultures, he climbed into the driver’s seat, pausing only to look at his two companions. Both seemed quite pleased with themselves. Dyn closed the door and powered up Monster’s systems. 

“So, how are you going to get us out of this ravine?” - Sikes asked.  
“I’ll drive through it,” - Dyn answered. 

He ran through a menu on Monster’s system and changed the mode to off-road. The vehicle moved as the composite wheels morphed into tracks, and the vehicle lifted to provide more clearance from the rocky terrain. He had the navigational grid pulled up on the screen, and figured he only had to drive alongside the stream for a few miles before the embankment became shallow enough to climb. He was still on the first mile when he considered using the shocker on Sikes to shut him up. The dog, however, was much more pleasant and lay with her head on Dyn’s lap despite the bumpy ride. Without thinking, he had started idly scratching her neck. Dyn rolled down the window and kept driving. 

The journey was finally over; he reached his landing spot without any additional stops and without anyone else trying to kill him. The Monster rolled onto the ramp and inside the cargo bay of Razor Crest. Dyn gave all systems a once over and switched off the engine. Sikes was blabbing incessantly. Dyn absentmindedly stroked the dog’s fur while she snored on the seat between the two men, grateful for the distraction lest he strangle Sikes himself. 

“Where are we going?” - Sikes asked.  
“Get inside,” - Dyn pointed to the carbonite chamber.

The Razor Crest engines revved up and the ship streamed into space in the direction of the Navarro system. The trip was uneventful. Dyn escorted Sikes to the entrance of the Guild offices. Sikes walked with an exaggerated limp, and Dyn knew his prisoner would drag his feet if he could get away with it. He continued to tug his prisoner along through the front door. Inside, four guards, all wearing exoshields, stood at the doors, while a clerk sat at the front desk. Dyn pulled Sikes up to the desk, pulled out the ticket, and set it in front of the clerk. 

“There’s been some kind of mistake. I shouldn’t be here,” Sikes said to the clerk, an elderly man with gray eyes and leathery skin. The clerk ignored Sikes, scanned the ticket, and looked Sikes up.   
“Why was he limping?” - the clerk asked Dyn.  
“He tried to run,” - Dyn stated.  
“Please,” Sikes begged. “I’m innocent. It was all just a big misunderstanding.” 

The clerk turned back to his screen, scanned the ticket card once more, and set it back on the counter. “The prisoner has been checked in, and your ticket status has been updated; note successful completion of bounty retrieved.”  
Dyn grabbed the ticket and headed for Greef Karga’s office. “Wait! Please don’t leave!” Sikes called out behind him. Dyn walked away. Sikes’s words following him like the ghosts of all his bounties he’d brought through those doors. The helmet did more than protect his head—it disguised the emotions in his eyes and on his face. He’d never been good at concealing his feelings. He’d seen the conditions of the work camp, and he wondered how many survived it. An optimist didn’t stand a chance in there


End file.
